KING OF THE MINOTAURS, 1958

Crawl through to see
both sides. See Picasso
didn’t mean to paint a self
portrait. The self is a series
of transformations—surprising,
then cruel, each is also
a disappearance. The searching
that follows flails, but the portrait,
if true, transgresses time,
intention too. Yet, presume
he was drinking red wine,
although the drained glass
in his fallen hand
left no clue. His eyes push
the mirror back, away,
away from the painting—
wayward king taken aback,
weary as the solider
who heaves sword and shield
for year after year. If only
he could retreat, lay down
his rags and brushes,
entreat the Lord for peace.
Ask how I know this.
Well I know what I see
when I look in any mirror.
The lines in his fine face
lengthened—cracks
in the window marred
his hide, but death did it
best: the palaces
he painted crumbling
—soon comes ruin.

Derek JG Williams is an American poet and essayist. He is the author of Poetry Is a Disease, forthcoming from Greying Ghost Press. He is a doctoral candidate in English and Creative Writing at Ohio University. Derek teaches writing courses online and develops curricula for GrubStreet. His poems and prose are published or forthcoming in Pleiades, DIAGRAM, Plume, Adroit Journal, Prairie Schooner, and on Boston’s MBTA trains as a part of the city’s Poetry on the T program. He lives in Germany with his wife.